


5 Reasons and a Bonus Reason Why Tommy Merlyn Had to DIE!

by LaDemonessa



Series: The "Jen is Pissed" Collection [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, Tommy Merlyn is Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDemonessa/pseuds/LaDemonessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simply put, if they hadn't killed Tommy, he would've taken over the show because he is AWESOME!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Reasons and a Bonus Reason Why Tommy Merlyn Had to DIE!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devouringfoodandstuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devouringfoodandstuff/gifts).



> I got into a discussion recently about the impact of the death of Laurel and the fact that she didn’t mention Tommy before she died. A lot of people thought it seemed wrong that she would tell Oliver he was the love of her life when Tommy loved her more than Oliver ever did. I got to thinking about that and how things would’ve changed this season—hell, in any and all of the subsequent seasons, if Tommy had lived.
> 
> The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that if Tommy had lived, he’d have wiped the floor with Oliver and made it the Tommy Show.
> 
> So, with that in mind, enjoy a glimpse into my twisted psyche.
> 
> For devouringfoodandstuff and all my girls at oldbatsandyoungbitches, this one’s for you.

 

 

 

 

**Reason One:**

 

_Tommy was way smarter than Oliver. Had he lived it would have made Oliver look even more like a dumb ass than he does now._

_...and given the BabyMama drama and everything after, that’s saying a lot._

 

 

* * *

 

 

SCENE OPENS: _Season four, at the farm house._

 

 

TOMMY: So I noticed you took off right after you ran into that Samantha chick at the coffee shop.

 

OLIVER: (looks at him guiltily) I had some errands to run.

 

TOMMY: Yeah, okay, so do you need help bringing in the groceries?

 

OLIVER: Groceries?

 

TOMMY: Well, I figured you hit the farmer’s market to buy groceries, right? I mean, yeah; we’re in the middle of a situation involving an immortal psychopath who wants to rule the world by killing people with wings, but cooking relaxes you so I figured you wanted to blow off some steam by picking up some groceries or something. That way we could enjoy a nice brunch before we all die horribly.

 

OLIVER: (gives him a disgruntled look) I didn’t buy groceries.

 

TOMMY: Did you get your teeth cleaned? Because cavities are no joke, my friend.

 

OLIVER: (sighs) It was just a personal errand, Tommy.

 

TOMMY: You had to go to the pharmacy to pick up jock itch spray because you have a fungus and didn’t want to pass it on to your frankly hot as hell girlfriend?

 

OLIVER: (rounds on him) No! And stop talking about how hot Felicity is. You know it pisses me off when you do that shit!

 

TOMMY: I realize that which is why I continue to say it even though you continue to threaten to arrow me in the ass afterwards--which has some homoerotic overtones attached to it, so you might want to not use that threat in public unless you want to start a rumor. I mean, I love you buddy, but you’re not my type.  (pauses) However, Felicity is, which…well, is the other reason I keep mentioning her hotness factor.

 

OLIVER: (glares at him) I swear to God, homoerotic or not, I will get my bow and shove an arrow up your ass, no lube required.

 

TOMMY: Duly noted (nods). Then does it have to do with the fact that the chick you knocked up in college walked into the coffee shop with a kid who is the exact same age the kid she claimed she miscarried would’ve been?

 

OLIVER: (reluctantly) She didn’t lose the baby. William is my son.

 

TOMMY: Mazel tov.

 

OLIVER: (rolling his eyes at him) She claims my mom threatened her and offered her a million dollars to lie to me and say she lost the baby. She even showed me the uncashed check.

 

TOMMY: Moira offered her a million bucks and she didn’t cash it?

 

OLIVER: She said she didn’t want to take her money; she just wanted to get away from her and protect her son from my family.

 

TOMMY: Okay, that makes sense.

 

OLIVER: Really?

 

TOMMY: Well, yeah, your mom was basically Malcolm in a skirt so if I were her I would’ve taken off, too. However, I probably would’ve cashed the check. Plus, a million bucks to skip town? That’s a little chintzy of your mom, don’t you think? That comes to, what? A little more than five grand a month in child support until he turns 18? And that doesn’t include stuff like insurance, tuition, and all the other crap kids need. I mean, that’s pretty hefty for a normal guy, but you guys were billionaires. An ambulance chaser working out of a mall kiosk could’ve gotten her at least a couple of million and a college fund, plus extras like a house and a car allowance. A real lawyer would’ve gotten her all of that, double the money, and made you pay his fees for the privilege. Samantha seemed like a pretty smart cookie, despite the fact that she let you get in her pants and do it raw after just a couple of Jello shots; you’d think she’d know better than to fall for a deal like that, right? I mean, your mom used to spend double that on catering for the annual Junior League luncheon alone.

 

OLIVER: I tell you my mother paid off a girl to lie to me about my son and all you can talk about is my mother’s catering bill?

 

TOMMY: I’m just saying, doesn’t add up, man. A million bucks for the son of a billionaire? (he raised an eyebrow at that) What about his school fees? Does he go to public or private school because Starling Academy was $40k a year, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg? Is Samantha rich because I didn’t know the chick but the impression I got was that she was middle class, at best?

 

OLIVER: (disgruntledly) I don’t know if he goes to private school, okay? It doesn’t matter though because she didn’t cash the check. She even showed it to me!

 

TOMMY: Uncashed?

 

OLIVER: Yeah, uncashed.

 

TOMMY: Just one? No trust or bank account? No financial or non-disclosure agreements; just a check?

 

OLIVER: (narrowing his eyes in confusion) Yeah?

 

TOMMY: (hums) Okay. Well, that aside, how’d it go with meeting your kid?

 

OLIVER: He’s…great. He’s smart, funny, and he looks just like I did when I was his age.

 

TOMMY: Cool! When do we get to meet him?

 

OLIVER: You can’t. (looks at him sadly) Samantha says I can’t tell anyone, not even Felicity, or she won’t let me see him anymore.

 

TOMMY: (dryly) You know that’s bullshit, right? It’s your kid, you have DNA evidence to prove it—

 

OLIVER: (frowns) How do you know about the DNA?

 

TOMMY: Like Barry can keep a secret to save his life? Please.

 

OLIVER: So you knew before I even told you about it?

 

TOMMY: Oliver, I knew the second I looked at that kid he was yours. Hell, I’m only surprised we haven’t run into one of your little college sex trophies before now.

 

OLIVER: (gives him a pitiful look) I can’t believe I let this happen.

 

TOMMY: I warned you after that nasty case of the clap back in freshman year to start covering up, my friend. In any case, you’re the dad and she’s spent the last ten years hiding your kid from you. She lied to you about the fact that she had a miscarriage, thereby interfering with your custodial rights. (Oliver begins to interrupt and he holds up one hand to forestall him) Yeah, your mom was evil—no offense, but she still played ball with her and Moira has been dead for a while now. She had no excuse not to tell you after Moira died, and she can’t keep you from seeing your kid now, Ollie.

 

OLIVER: I know that, but with the life I lead…

 

TOMMY: (holds up his hand again to stop him) Don’t hand me that tired speech you use on chicks when you’re trying to avoid getting into a relationship. Also, as far as Samantha and the rest of the world is concerned, you’re a nice guy running for mayor so, while that isn’t the safest profession in the world, especially in Starling—sorry *Star City*, unless you showed up in your hood and mask, she can’t use that as an excuse to keep you from your kid. However, if *you* don’t want to be a dad then own that and tell this Samantha chick that if she needs anything, or if the kid ever needs some bone marrow, to call but you aren’t interested in pursuing custody. I’m not going to judge you for not wanting to be a dad to some ten year old kid you don’t know, especially since his mom is a bitter one night stand you slept with at a frat kegger after knowing her for all of ten minutes. That kid doesn’t know you’re his dad. In fact, he might not even want you to be his dad. For all you know Samantha might already have a guy in her life and they don’t need you there muddying the waters by making a half-assed guilt fueled effort to be his dad while living 600 miles away.

 

(with a stern look) That said, even if you don’t want to be dad, you *are* a father. You have a responsibility to support that kid whether you want to pursue custody or not, so just tell Felicity, get with Samantha and hammer out a financial and custody/visitation agreement like adults, buy a life insurance policy, set up a college fund, and make sure the kid can find you in case he needs a kidney. That doesn’t mean you have to take a train to visit every weekend, but it covers your ass just in case you ever change your mind and shows your kid that you made some kind of effort and that you weren’t a complete deadbeat. He’ll still probably hate you and blame you for his inability to commit later in life but, after he turns 21, he can come find you, punch you in the face for being an asshole, then you two can get together for beers afterwards. However, if you want to be part of your kid’s life then don’t use this Arrow shit as an excuse. If you really feel that you can’t do both—again--talk to Felicity, ask her to move to Central City, and start looking for a house in Samantha’s neighborhood. You left it once, you can leave it again, and I’m sure that Palmer Tech has more than one building Felicity can work out of.

 

OLIVER: I—I mean…(sighs heavily and runs his fingers through his hair) I get what you’re saying but I can’t tell Felicity.

 

TOMMY: Why not?

 

OLIVER: Because Samantha told me I couldn’t.

 

TOMMY: Ollie (sighs) I just gave you a whole—you know what? Never mind. Just go in there and tell Felicity and don’t even try to hand me that bullshit again or I’ll grab that quiver of yours and go all Kinsey Scale on your ass.  

 

OLIVER: But…okay, the truth is that Barry traveled through time and said that after I told Felicity she left me and everyone died.

 

TOMMY: Okay.

 

OLIVER: So I can’t tell her.

 

TOMMY: Uh huh.

 

OLIVER: I mean, I want to tell her but I can’t. Plus, um, Samantha; I made her a promise to not tell Felicity and I can’t break it.

 

TOMMY: A promise?

 

OLIVER: Yeah. I even asked her specifically if I could tell Felicity and she said no.

 

TOMMY: So…you made a promise to the one night stand who took money to lie to you about your kid not to tell the woman you love and who you trust more than anyone else in this world, me included, about your kid and you think that’s a good idea? That keeping the fact that you have a child from Felicity is okay?

 

OLIVER: (shuffling uncomfortably) Well, it’s not okay but I don’t really have a choice, now do I?

 

TOMMY: Well, yeah; you could tell Felicity then tell Samantha to cut the shit and deal. That seems like a legitimate choice to me.

 

OLIVER: (stubbornly) I can’t. I made a promise to Samantha--

 

TOMMY: Gotcha. One question though?

 

OLIVER: Yeah?

 

TOMMY: When you fuck this up and she dumps you—because we both know she’s going to find out sooner or later, is it okay if I hit that? (asks hopefully) Because, like I said before, Felicity is really hot and I could really use a sugar mama right about now.

 

 

END SCENE

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Reason Two:**

 

_Tommy had a knack for making sarcastic remarks and logical observations and, as a consequence to that, the writers would’ve had to work harder to come up with better storylines because he would’ve poked holes into all the lazy ass bullshit they came up with._

 

* * *

 

 

SCENE OPENS: _Season 4, following the defeat and arrest of Damian Darhk, the team gathers in the Lair._

 

FELICITY: (looking at the idol thing askance) What are we going to do with it?

 

TOMMY: I don’t know; toss it in the trash compactor maybe? If that doesn’t work, we could take a sledgehammer to it and use the gravel to fix that pothole in the parking lot.

 

OLIVER: We can’t do that, it’s a magical item and it can’t be destroyed.

 

TOMMY: (frowns) But you guys busted it when that Mari chick hulked out and slammed it on the ground.

 

OLIVER: That didn’t break it though.

 

TOMMY: (arches an eyebrow at that) Then why did Paul Newman’s evil twin lose his magical mojo all of the sudden?

 

OLIVER: (sighs) Because we disrupted his link to—you know what? Never mind. The point is that, for now, the connection Darhk had to the idol has been broken but we need to keep him from getting his hands back on it.

 

 DIGGLE: So what do you want to do, man?

 

OLIVER: What we should do is keep it in the Lair--

 

TOMMY: (holds up a hand to stop him) Hang on, let me get this straight: You're going to keep a big magical tchotchke that looks like it came out of a 1970's blacksploitation movie in the Lair?

 

LAUREL: (frowns) I thought we agreed to call it ‘the bunker’ instead?

 

OLIVER: (scowls) We did but no one ever listens to me.

 

FELICITY: Get over it, Oliver.

 

OLIVER: (hurt eyes) Felicity…

 

TOMMY: Yeah, okay, moving on from the soap opera that is your love life for a moment, back to the subject at hand.

 

OLIVER: (angrily) Hey!

 

TOMMY: (ignoring him) So you want to ‘hide’ this thingamajig in plain sight in the middle of your ‘secret bunker’, the same ‘secret bunker’ that my dad and every other bad guy seems to be able to walk into at any time? (turns to Felicity) By the way, are you people on Google Maps or something, because this is getting a little ridiculous?

 

OLIVER: (tersely) Where else should we put it?

 

TOMMY: I don't know. (shrugs) A bank vault? Borrow the Palmer Jet and drop it in the middle of the ocean? Pull a Lord of the Rings and drop it in a big fucking volcano? Bury it in the landfill under a ton of dirty diapers and rotten fish guts? Anywhere else but here maybe? Oh, and, what's with the clear acrylic case fetish? Because I know that’s where you’re thinking of stashing it, right? God knows everything else in this joint has its own lighted plastic case! Yeah, let's not only NOT hide the thing, but display it so it looks nice and spring for some tract lighting. And, once again, not to harp on it, but it’s not like anything in this bunker of yours is secure. (walks over to his weapons cabinet and points) Is there even a lock on this thing and where the hell do you buy this shit anyway? Is there an acrylic display case dealership for vigilantes around here? How is it no one has ever caught onto the fact that you're buying clear lighted cabinets every week for everything from your costumes to weaponry? I mean, goddamn, bro; I know they aren't selling this shit at Home Depot, so what gives?

 

DIGGLE: (crosses arms) He's got a point.

 

TOMMY: Thank you! So how is putting this ugly fucking piece of magical shit in an unlocked clear display box in the middle of bad guy central going to stop the bad guys from getting their hands on it?

 

OLIVER: (glares) Simple, the object is just a distraction. It won't work without this! (holds up a block of rough amethyst) 

 

TOMMY: Oh, so what are you going to do with that?

 

DIGGLE: I'm going to hide it in my house.

 

TOMMY:  In your house?

 

DIGGLE: Yeah.

 

TOMMY:  The house where your brother who was brainwashed by Darhk and who has fucked up magically altered DNA is staying at? The same brother you just recently let out of a cage after beating the shit out of him?

 

DIGGLE: (angrily) Are you saying I can't trust my own brother?

 

TOMMY:  Yes.

 

DIGGLE: Well, excuse me for having faith in people!

 

TOMMY:  Seriously, dude?

 

DIGGLE: People change, Tommy!

 

TOMMY:  Yeah, but your brother isn't a person. He's a magically altered zombie with half his DNA stripped away who should be a puddle of genetic soup right now. That aside though, why not just spend five bucks, get an envelope, and mail it to your friend Tatsu? Or that Vixen chick? Or even Constantine? Why keep it in Starling—sorry, *Star* City at all if it has the ability to give the albino version of the dude from Temple of Doom the ability to Darth Vader our asses?

 

Diggle and Oliver look at each other then at Tommy in confusion.

 

Tommy sighs and reaches into the drawer for a padded envelope.

 

TOMMY:  So, who's up for a run to the post office?

 

END SCENE

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Reason Three:**

 

_When it comes to Malcolm, Tommy had zero fucks left to give so his character would not have lasted as long as he has. In fact, that guy would’ve been toast the second he emerged from the dead thereby vastly improving the plots and actually forcing the writers to do more in season three then come up with ways to promote other shows while trying to make Laurel relevant._

_Yeah, I’m still not over that shit even though she’s dead now._

 

* * *

 

 

 

SCENE OPENS: _Season three, Malcolm appears from the shadows after Oliver returns from the dead and announces to the team that they’re joining forces._

 

MERLYN: Hello Oliver. (tosses a contemptuous look towards Tommy) Son.

 

TOMMY: Don’t call me that. I’m no son of yours, you son of a bitch.

 

MERLYN: But you are my son. Just as Thea is my daughter.

 

TOMMY: (unimpressed) Yeah, I’m your son, all right; the son you nearly killed along with 502 other people.

 

MERLYN: I did that in order to save lives.

 

TOMMY: Whose lives? Oh, wait, I know: rich white people’s lives, right? Because most of the people you killed were poor minorities who couldn’t afford to live in the areas you didn’t destroy. Yeah, dad; you’re a real hero. Way to earn that humanitarian of the year award; go you.

 

OLIVER: (glances between them uncomfortably) Tommy…

 

FELICITY: (interrupts while tossing Oliver a dirty look) No, let him talk! You said your piece, told all of us that we had to work with this son of a bitch, now it’s Tommy’s turn to say what he needs to say.

 

OLIVER: (whipped puppy look) Felicity…

 

MALCOLM: No, Oliver, Miss Smoak is right. Besides, I imagined my son would have something to say about this. Might as well let him say his piece once and for all since, whether he or Miss Smoak like it, we’re all going to be working together for the foreseeable future.

 

DIGGLE: I don’t think so.

 

OLIVER: Enough! Malcolm’s right. (looks over his angry teammates) Look, I don’t like having to work with Malcolm either, but if we don’t do it, the League will come to Starling and they’ll kill Thea and a bunch of other innocent people, remember?

 

TOMMY: Yeah, about that, dad. I wanted to get you something to celebrate that stellar bit of parenting, but Hallmark was all out of ‘Good Job Mind-raping Your Own Daughter Then Making a Snuff Video of her Murdering Someone Just to Save Your Own Ass’ cards. (purses lips as he shakes his head) I know, right? And here I thought they had a card for everything, but apparently not. I sent an email though, here’s hoping I hear back from them soon.

 

MALCOLM: (shifts uncomfortably) I did that to protect her.

 

TOMMY: And, just out of curiosity, how is drugging her and making her into an unwitting assassin, then blackmailing Ollie by using her life as leverage in order to save you, protecting her?

 

MALCOLM: Because I’m the only parent she has left and she needs me.

 

TOMMY: To do what? Read her bedtime stories? Teach her to tie her shoes? I’m pretty sure she knows how to do that on her own. At this point, the only thing you can really offer her guidance with is how to roofie people into becoming murderous zombies and she’s already got that pretty much down pat thanks to you. (pauses) Well, the murderous zombie part, not the roofie part anyway.

 

MALCOLM: You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a parent.

 

TOMMY: (scoffs) Neither are you. You abandoned me when I was eight, came back just long enough to knock up Moira, left back out for almost a year until Thea was born, and then tried to kill both of us—on more than one occasion, I might add. Or have you forgotten that, in addition to this Ra’s thing, you also threatened to kill her if Moira didn’t help you with the Undertaking? (turns to Oliver) Remind me again why you agreed to this shit?

 

OLIVER: Because I need Malcolm to teach me how to defeat Ra’s.

 

MALCOLM: (coolly) Exactly.

 

TOMMY: Okay, my issues with Malcolm aside, let’s think about this for a moment, shall we? If Malcolm knew how to kill Ra’s then why hasn’t he done it yet? Why didn’t he just challenge Ra’s himself and kill him before taking over the role of Ra’s al Ghul because I think we both know that’s what he’s planning, right? (turns to Malcolm) This can’t all be about saving your own ass. After all, you managed to duck the League for nearly three years with no problem. Why kidnap Thea, brainwash her into murdering Sara, tape it and blackmail Ollie, then show back up to the one place you knew the League is coming if you were so scared of Ra’s finding you? Why not just keep hiding? And don’t say it’s for Thea or because Moira died and she needs you when you dumped me right after mom died to go join the League and, I guarantee you, Thea has way more life skills at 20 than I did when I was eight.

 

Malcolm just glares and says nothing

 

OLIVER: Tommy, maybe you’re right and Malcolm has another agenda, but the fact remains that Thea’s life is on the line here and I don’t think either of us want her hurt, do we?

 

TOMMY: Right, and why is Thea in danger again? Oh, that’s right! Because Malcolm has a video of her killing Sara hanging over our heads. (glares at his father again)

 

OLIVER: What do you want from me, Tommy? What else can I do?

 

TOMMY: I don’t know? How about we kill him, send his corpse to Ra’s with a big poofy bow attached, and then celebrate by going out for margaritas afterwards?

 

FELICITY: (frowns) I could go for a margarita.

 

MALCOLM: (gives his son an unimpressed look) I thought you weren’t a ‘killer’ like me?

 

TOMMY: Yeah, well, having my ‘dad’ drop an entire building on my head then turn my sister into a killer zombie changes a guy. (turns to Diggle) Can I borrow your gun for a minute?

 

DIGGLE: Be my guest.

 

MALCOLM: (giving him a bored look as Diggle hands him his sidearm) We both know you don’t have it in you to—

 

BAM!

 

Malcolm drops like a sack of potatoes with a 9mm hole in the center of his forehead.

 

TOMMY: See, problem solved. (looks down at his father’s lifeless corpse) Say Felicity; do you still have that ribbon leftover from last Hanukkah? Malcolm was always fond of blue and, what can I say? I’m feeling a little festive right now. (looks around the room) By the way, drinks are on me tonight.

 

END SCENE

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Reason Four:**

 

_Tommy was much better at making friends and influencing people than Oliver was, not to mention the fact that he was a much better businessman._

* * *

 

 

 

SCENE OPENS: _Season Two: Isabel Rochev shows up, posse in tow, to take over Queen Consolidated._

ISABEL: You might as well sign over your shares right now, Mr. Queen, because we both know you don’t have the capital it will take to buy up the majority shares.

 

TOMMY: (sitting at the head of the conference table) That’s right, he doesn’t. I do though.

 

ISABEL: (giving him a dangerous look) And just who the hell are you?

 

TOMMY: Tommy Merlyn, holder of the stocks your company failed to buy and current CEO of Merlyn Global *and* Queen Consolidated, both of which will be renamed Queen Incorporated once your company sells me back those shares you now own and we merge our two companies.

 

ISABEL: (incredulously) What?

 

TOMMY: (waves) Hi.

 

ISABEL: (turning to the board angrily) Are you honestly telling me that you put the son of Malcolm Merlyn, a domestic terrorist who tried to destroy this city along with Moira Queen, in charge?

 

The board members all nod in unison.

 

TOMMY: Why not? After all, your company put a Russian hooker in charge of mergers and acquisitions, right?   

 

ISABEL: (whips back around to glare at him) Excuse me?

 

TOMMY: Oh, I’m not slut shaming you, honey. Believe me, it would be like the pot calling the kettle black if I were. Not only do I have the utmost respect for the world’s oldest profession, but I’ve been known to slut it up myself from time to time. My cocksmanship aside though, your past work experience as Robert Queen’s personal fluffer doesn’t make you any more qualified to run this company than me. After all, I’m a respected entrepreneur and philanthropist who has no intentions of selling this company off for scraps, unlike yourself and the rest of the vulture capitalists at Stellmoor so, really, when you think about it, putting me in charge is kind of a no brainer.

 

ISABEL: (livid) How dare you!

 

TOMMY: How dare I what? Call you a vulture capitalist or a hooker, because both of those things are facts. My father may have been an asshole of the highest order, not to mention a neglectful child abusing son of a bitch, but he was also Robert Queen’s drinking buddy and collected secrets like people collect stamps. I have reams of documentation from his private files showing that Robert had you as his kept woman and even paid your way through school before shuffling you off as cold product when he got bored. In fact, you were even fired from this very company in a very public way by Moira Queen after she caught you giving her husband an old fashioned under the desk. The HR department here keeps excellent records, by the way. (winks at her) Personally, if I were you I would’ve gone the easier route and sued for sexual harassment rather than try to take over my ex’s company. I’m kind of lazy and that just seems like too much work to me, but whatever; you do you. Unfortunately though, you gambled and lost. (shrugs) Oh well, as they say in Vegas: If you play a high stakes game, then you better be prepared to go bust.

 

ISABEL: I didn’t lose anything! I still own a large chunk of this company’s stock.

 

TOMMY: Actually, your company does, not you, and while you and Ollie both hold 40% of the company stock, I own the outstanding 20% making me the swing vote. See, I started buying up the stock after Oliver needed to take some ‘me’ time. A friend of mine, Felicity Smoak, mentioned you guys were gearing up for a hostile takeover so I figured it was a smart move, especially since I was already a stockholder anyway. See, my dad owned about 15% of the company and, as his son; I inherited it after he died. Speaking of dad, I should remind you that, while he was an asshole and a son of a bitch, he was never charged with any crime, nor was he ever convicted of anything to do with the Glades disaster which is why I still own both the company and those assets. I mean, it was touch and go. The government tried freezing everything and was prepared to seize all of it, but after a thorough examination by the feds and the local DA’s office, there was never one scrap of evidence connecting his name to anything to do with the Undertaking. I may not have liked my father, but he was a slick bastard, I’ll give him that; always ten steps ahead of the game. However, as I recall, you weren’t nearly as slick about your end of things, were you? After all, your name was attached to the Undertaking as well, was it not?

 

All eyes turn to Isabel who pales suddenly.

 

ISABEL: What?

 

At that moment, several policemen, FBI agents, and the DA walk through the conference room doors.

 

TOMMY: Yup, as part of a plea deal with the DA and Homeland, and at my own prompting, Moira agreed to five years in a minimum security Women’s Federal Prison and fifteen years of monitored probation in exchange for turning over Robert’s files relating to the Undertaking, including a list of names of all the people involved in it. I believe your name was featured rather prominently.

 

The feds come to handcuff a sputtering Isabel as the DA steps in.

 

DA: Isabel Rochev, you’re being arrested for Conspiracy to Commit Domestic Terrorism, as well as various other charges connected to the Glades Undertaking including Murder, Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Arson, Money Laundering, Insurance Fraud, Blackmail, and multiple violations of the RICO statute. Gentleman?

 

FED: (while dragging her out) You have the right to remain silent…

 

ISABEL: (screaming in outrage) You’ll pay for this! You and the rest of the Queen family! You haven’t heard the end of this! I will have my revenge! You’ll pay!!!

 

TOMMY: (waves as she’s dragged away kicking and screaming) Bye Felicia!

 

FELICITY: Isabel.

 

TOMMY: Isabel; whatever. Good luck in getting that revenge of yours! (turns his eyes to the shocked and confused posse of Stellmoor execs) Yeah, I don’t know about all that, but one thing I do know we’ll pay for is that other 40% of stock you guys own in this company—at a discount, by the way. The way I see it, your VP is about to be convicted of being the felony accessory to 502 counts of murder along with a lot of other bad stuff, not to mention the fact that the press is going to have a field day once that stuff about her being Robert’s favorite side piece comes to light, so you might want to unload that stock now while you can still get a decent price for it. Or, you can keep it, try to strong arm us into giving you and Isabitch Ho-chev, soon to be convicted murderer and terrorist, a seat at the table. Hey, like I said, you could try; your prerogative but, like I mentioned to Vice President Sugar-tits out there, it’s a risk. If you do go that route though, you might want to start stocking up on booze, cigarettes, and toilet paper now because that RICO shit is a real pain in the ass and I hear the SEC and IRS are chomping at the bit to get into your books. After all, it’s a new administration, and putting a bunch of vulture capitalists out of business would be a nice way to kick things off, don’t you think?

 

STELLMOOR CORPORATE DRONE: Um, how much were you thinking about offering?

 

TOMMY: Seventy five cents on the dollar seems fair. Take it to your bosses but tell them to get back to me soon because tomorrow I go down to fifty. Then, come Friday, after the Wall Street Journal gets hold of the story, I go down to a quarter. (turns to Felicity who is sitting on the other side of Oliver) Speaking of, what time is that interview?

 

FELICITY: (glancing at her tablet) I have them and CNN penciled in your schedule for three o’clock, but first you have prep for that TV interview with Snapper Carr at noon and lunch with Clark Kent, the guy from the Daily Planet, at one.

 

TOMMY: (nods) Gotcha, and good job scheduling all that in one day. Even with all the fact checking they should be able to go to press just in time for the weekend edition. Now where was I? (looks around in feigned confusion) Oh, right. Anyway, after it hits the papers, chances are you’ll be scrambling for all the extra capital you can get so I’ll be able to buy that stock back for pennies on the dollar, not to mention the fact that we’ll be launching our own hostile takeover against your company just so I can fire all of you and Miss Rochev personally so, if I were you, I’d take the deal then turn in my resignation and get out while the getting is good.

 

The Stellmoor entourage all exchange nervous glances at that.

 

STELLMOOR DRONE: (clears throat) Let me make a phone call.

 

TOMMY: You do that, we’ll wait here. (turns to board) Now what’s next on the agenda? Oh yeah, the proposed company retreat. I’m feeling kind of lucky so I’m thinking Vegas; who’s with me?

 

END SCENE

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Reason Five:**

 

_Tommy would’ve been better at the whole hero thing and he wouldn’t have needed a mask to do it either. He would’ve been that ‘hero in the light’ Oliver talked about thus eating into Oliver’s hero’s journey and making it the Tommy Show._

 

* * *

 

 

SCENE OPENS: _Season Four: First debate between mayoral candidates Tommy Merlyn and Ruve Adams._

 

RUVE: (offering the camera a brittle smile) I’m sorry, but I just don’t see what qualifications you have to run for office? (patronizing chuckle) After all, your father was the one who tried to destroy this city three years ago and now you want to be mayor?

 

TOMMY: (shrugs) Why not? After all, your husband is the one trying to destroy it now.

 

RUVE: (freezes) Excuse me?

 

TOMMY: Damian Darhk. You know, the scary Aryan dude you’re married to who has his own army of machine gun carrying thugs shooting up the entire city; that guy. I mean, my dad was an asshole; I will fully cop to that, but the entire world knows that, other than a last name, we had nothing to do with each other. You, however, are basically the Eva Braun to his Adolph.

 

RUVE: (furiously) How dare you! I will sue you for slander!

 

TOMMY: (frowns) But I thought slander was when you lied about something; what is it I’m lying about exactly? Damian Darhk is your husband, right?

 

RUVE: No, he is not!

 

TOMMY: No?

 

RUVE: No! I’m not married to anyone much less this—Damian Darhk!

 

TOMMY: (hums in confusion) Then what’s with all these family pictures with you, your daughter, and Damian Darhk? (turns to point a remote at the screen where a large family portrait of the three of them appear)

 

(the audience begins to murmur in apprehension as Ruve sputters in outrage)

 

RUVE: Where did you get that? That’s obviously been photoshopped!

 

TOMMY: Actually, I don’t know who sent it, but the email attached said it came from the house where you and your daughter had to be rescued from some nutball named Anarky after the Arrow rescued you, along with all these photos as well.

 

Begins clicking through various photos

 

RUVE: This is obviously an attempt to discredit me—none of those photos are real!

 

TOMMY: (frowns) Well, according to the guys with Homeland Security they are. (points to the men in black standing at either end of the stage) And then there’s this video of your daughter running up to Damian Darhk and calling him ‘daddy’.

 

Plays a surveillance video where Darhk is holding his daughter while standing outside the house threatening the Arrow.

 

RUVE: That’s not—that’s not--! This is outrageous!

 

TOMMY: And what about all these traffic cam photos showing you being escorted by teams of Darhk’s Ghosts while sitting in a limo with him and your daughter?

 

Plays CCTV footage.

 

RUVE: How--? What--?

 

TOMMY: (folds lips with a sheepish look) That's what happens when you piss off a gorgeous genius hacker. (winks at Felicity who is sitting in the eaves while Oliver glares at him) Or so I'm told. (grin) But, you know, maybe you’re right. After all, even though there is _reams_ of evidence proving that you’re in cahoots with Darhk, that doesn’t necessarily mean you married the guy. You could just be shacked up, or fuckbuddies, or maybe you're just really, really good friends? In any case, your personal life is your own business. However, I would like to remind you that in order to qualify for the race, all mayoral candidates must be residents of Star City for no less than two years. When exactly did you move here again?

 

RUVE: …

 

TOMMY: Yeah, well, I think this debate is over then. (turns to the men in black) Okay guys, the floor is yours. (As the agents arrest Ruve, Tommy grins at the audience while holding up both hands in a victory salute) Merlyn for Mayor! Whoo hoo!

 

END SCENE

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**BONUS REASON:**

 

_While Oliver was a big waffling sissy baby when it came to nailing shit down, Tommy Merlyn was all about getting the girl and giving with the romance._

* * *

 

 

 

SCENE OPENS: _Season Three: Oliver gives Felicity his ‘maybe never’ speech and spends the next few weeks sulking in the Lair over it._

 

OLIVER: (scowling like a big whiny baby) Felicity’s going on a date with that Palmer.

 

 TOMMY: (tugging on his jacket and smoothing his lapel) No, she’s not.

 

OLIVER: Yes, she is! She told Dig she couldn’t make it to the lair tonight because she had a date with somebody and he’s been after her ever since…(tightens mouth angrily)

 

TOMMY: Ever since you basically dumped her after the restaurant you took her to on your first date exploded?

 

OLIVER: I didn’t dump her! I just told her we couldn’t be together.

 

DIGGLE: (frowns) How is that not the same thing as dumping her?

 

OLIVER: It just…isn’t.

 

TOMMY: (reaching into the mini-fridge to pull out a bouquet of flowers) Still, you told her you couldn’t be in a relationship, right? That it could never happen and that the two of you couldn’t be together?

 

OLIVER: (frowning at him) Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she should be dating Palmer!

 

TOMMY: (looking at him curiously) Why not? If you aren’t going to be with her then why can’t she date whoever she wants to?

 

OLIVER: Because—because, first off, he’s all wrong for her! Plus, I don’t trust that guy. (scowls) There’s something off about him. She shouldn’t be dating that guy, that’s all!

 

TOMMY: (nods before walking to a crate near the workstation to pull out a bottle of wine) So what you’re saying is that you wouldn’t have a problem with her dating another guy as long as it wasn’t Palmer?

 

OLIVER: No--yes! I mean…(flounders)

 

DIGGLE: Yeah?

 

OLIVER: Yeah, yes!

 

DIGGLE: (looking at him dubiously) You really have no problem with Felicity going out with some guy?

 

OLIVER: No, of course not! What would give you that idea? (huffs) I have no problem with Felicity dating other people.

 

DIGGLE: (crossing arms over his chest) Uh huh.

 

OLIVER: I don’t! I’m merely concerned about the fact that…

 

DIGGLE: (looking between Oliver and Tommy who is reading the back of a box of chocolates carefully) That?

 

OLIVER: That…that, um...I'm just concerned that she might accidentally expose our identities to whoever she’s seeing.

 

TOMMY: (humming absently) So what you’re saying is that you’d be okay with her seeing someone as long as A) it wasn’t Palmer B) you trusted them and C) they were already aware of the fact that you’re the Arrow?

 

OLIVER: (mouth opening and closing a few times) Yeah, but she and Barry are just friends so, you know, that’s not happening.

 

DIGGLE: But if Barry or someone _else_ you trusted did want to date her you’d be okay with it? Because you and she can’t be together and she deserves to be happy?

 

OLIVER: Uh…yeah. I guess so but, like I said, she and Barry are just *friends*.

 

TOMMY: Huh. (looks up from the box of chocolates in his hand) Hey, not to change the subject, but is Felicity just allergic to peanuts or is she allergic to tree nuts, too?

 

OLIVER: What?

 

TOMMY: Tree nuts and peanuts aren’t the same thing, right?

 

DIGGLE: I don’t know but I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.

 

TOMMY: (nods) You’re probably right. Do you want to give these to Lyla? They’re Godiva.

 

DIGGLE: (takes the box from him) Sure, thanks.

 

OLIVER: (watching their exchange in confusion) What’s going on here?

 

TOMMY: Nothing, man.

 

OLIVER: (narrowing his eyes suspiciously) Nothing?

 

TOMMY: (shrugs) Nope, why do you ask?

 

OLIVER: (faltering for a moment before taking in the other man’s appearance and the fact that he’s placing an expensive bottle of red wine in a gift bag and holding a bouquet of brightly colored flowers in his hand) Are you going out on a date?

 

TOMMY: Yup. (glances down at his watch) Speaking of which, I have to run so we don’t miss our reservations.

 

OLIVER: With who? Laurel?

 

TOMMY: (lifting an eyebrow at that) Dude, Laurel and I haven’t been together in, what? Over two years?

 

OLIVER: (frown deepening at that) Someone you met at the club then?

 

TOMMY: (grinning) You could say that.

 

DIGGLE: (shaking head) Oh my God, you are a complete dumbass, you know that?

 

OLIVER: (looking between them in shock) Are you going out with Felicity?

 

DIGGLE: (snorts) What gave it away?

 

TOMMY: Yeah, man. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?

 

OLIVER: What?

 

TOMMY: After all, you did say that you’d be fine with her dating someone as long as you trusted the guy and he already knew about the whole Team Arrow thing, and I’m definitely not Palmer, so we’re good, right?

 

OLIVER: Uh…

 

TOMMY: I mean, I know you aren’t about to call bro code on me since you slept with Laurel behind my back so…

 

OLIVER: But—but—what?

 

TOMMY: Yeah, because that would make you a hypocrite. Oops, speaking of—

 

Reaches into the desk drawer for a box of condoms and pulls some out to tuck into his lapel pocket.

 

OLIVER: (floundering) What—you—what???

 

TOMMY: Not that I plan on doing anything tonight, but you know the Tommy Merlyn motto: always be prepared. (winks) Anyway, I gotta go.

 

OLIVER: (gapes at him) Go?

 

TOMMY: (clapping Oliver on the shoulder) And thanks, buddy. I really appreciate the fact that you’re cool with me and Felicity. Who knows? If all goes well, maybe you can even be my best man someday?  Wish me luck!

 

Oliver stares after his friend as he grabs the wine and flowers and skips up the stairs while whistling a merry tune.

 

OLIVER: (weakly) What just happened?

 

DIGGLE: What just happened is that Merlyn snaked your girl. (pause) Dumb ass.

 

END SCENE

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

So you see, Tommy Merlyn had to die.

 

After all, who would want to watch *that* show, right?

 

(grin)

 

_The End._


End file.
